Second Chapter of Morgan Chronicles, Etc.

Here's a bit more on the Morgan Chronicles -- Chapter Two can be read here. What can I say? Nothing - nothing that'll not make her hate me later in life. I don't think she will ... I try to be mindful of her, thoughtful in not making her an antagonist.

She's a brilliant little girl -- I hope the documenting of her life - a very vulnerable-making thing - is received well when she's older. I have many years to wait.

Read it!

Movie List! (The Start), Informant, Inglourious, September, Bright Star ... Etc.

I've finally got the energy to post the Movie List. I've finished four chapters of The Morgan Stories, I've beaten down the swine flu (or, its relative), and the Band of Horses song ("The Funeral") has been removed from my YouTube playlist. It had to be done if I was going to stop staring at the wall and letting myself get adrift in my head. God, that song has awful effects.

"The Informant!"

I saw this one twice -- once with a friend in Houston, once with Mama G at the good old Dollar Cinema. I really liked this movie. I loved the whimsical music and his (Matt Damon's) narration mostly involving the production of corn syrup in the Midwest. It had a feel of "Stranger than Fiction," mixed with "The Hoax" and "Catch Me if You Can." Not a lot of folks saw "The Hoax" (Richard Gere, Alfred Molina), but I'd dare say they should've. One of the FBI Special Agents in the movie is Joel McHale, who's now one of the leads in "Community," a show I could take or leave -- but he's rather dreamy, and has an impressive range.

"Inglourious Basterds"

I had to see this one twice, too, as I'd fallen asleep during the first viewing. I'm an unabashed, cliched Tarantino-lover, so I was likely going to like it no matter what. But, I really did enjoy it on many levels. Its fabrication of this faux-group of Nazi killers was good in its concoction of characters that would have believable motive to go and skin the skulls of some Nazis ... it was steeped, of course, in Tarantino's bizarro world of comically extreme characters, but -- it was great. Femme Fatale-ish, revenge-strewn, etc. I wouldn't hope it wins many Oscars (a little too long, a little too Tarantino-living-out-his-comic-book-dreams), but I'll watch it plenty, plenty of times.

"The September Issue"

Lordy me, I haven't thought about my viewing of this at the River Oaks theater in Houston in quite a while -- it's a hoity-toity place that I only visited because of circumstance. It's a documentary on Anna Wintour, the lady that makes Vogue en vogue. It was well done - nothing to write home about (hello, Mama G!), but good nonetheless. It made me reminiscent of my old days in the fashion world - a place I'd never, ever go back to, but reminiscent nonetheless.

"Bright Star"

I briefly mentioned this movie before, but it deserves a second mention. This was a fantastic film -- about John Keats and his magical love for Fanny Brawne ... I might've cried a little in this one. It's beautifully shot, the story is great - and makes you a hopeless romantic for a while, until you slap some sense into yourself. I really loved this movie ... and I was on such a movie kick that day that I drove (DROVE!) over to another theater to see ...

"The Boys Are Back"

Clive Owen, that be-whiskered face, those eyes, stars in this one. No one saw it, save for me and some old ladies, I suppose. It's based on a true story -- he's a journalist, married to a lovely, lovely lady. Right early on in the movie, she keels over and dies -- after sharing some nice, slight glances at each other at a dinner party. Boom, she's gone. He has to assume responsibility of his family, and is bequeathed another young soul to look after as well. My good gods, that movie made me feel like "The Constant Gardener" was child's play, in terms of jerking my feelings around. I like to think I have none! And, these movies ... they make me pinch myself.

I can't write about the rest just yet. There are too many -- I should've been more judicious in my time.

Little Morgan, Movies, First Chapter

I've spent the good part of my last week talking to Little Morgan all day on G-chat. She's 10 years old, and I'm able to relate to her on a remarkable level; she's at an age where she's no longer as malleable as aluminum foil, but still lovably naive and sweet. And very, very smart.

That I can relate so well to a 10 year old is ... well, telling.

Over the summer, I was her effective caregiver during daytime hours -- Mama G and Brother G were at work all day, while I was "working" at home on the computer. When Morgan The Little would get bored of ABC Family or building her dream doll house, she'd quietly come peek around the corner from the hallway to see what I was up to. I'd always pretend that I didn't see her nosy eyes, but then I'd get up from my chair, saunter over, slowly, to my purse and fetch out the keys. I'd jingle them a bit and say, "Let's go, kid."

If I were feeling rich that day, we'd go to the regular theaters; more often, I'd take her to the second-run Dollar Cinema (now $1.50, those jerks). We did this nearly every single day for three months.

I miss her.

I've been working on a "book" about her -- the first chapter can be read here, for anyone interested.

Precious, Popular Science, Happy Thanksgiving

I strode on over to the Loews in Kips Bay today, pivoting my penny-loafers (I placed the pennies there myself) eastwards from the steps of my new office at Popular Science. I was en route to see "Precious: Based on the Novel PUSH by Sapphire."

I'd already heard things about the movie, sure, but I hadn't really read much on it. My old best lady friend from home, who's now a social worker in Houston, had told me how she and her co-workers had made a field trip out of the movie; on a planned group-outing, they'd opted to see this movie instead of growing merry at some Happy Hour -- and given her affinity for making me and others watch educational videos on the importance of psych therapy this summer (something I tend to find as rationally-acceptable as voo-doo dolls), I knew what I was getting into, sort of.

I walked into the theater a few minutes before showtime, and it was empty. I had my popcorn and Diet Coke in hand (go hard, or go home), and seated myself. In the next ten minutes before the movie began, only three bespectacled old women -- alone -- sauntered in and took seat before the big screen.

It's the day before Thanksgiving, I'm in a theater with three little old ladies who gave me quiet smiles as they passed me, about to see the most depressing (questionable) movie in a good long while. I was comforted by what my future holds.

The movie stars newcomer Gaburey 'Gabby' Sidibe (who's roughly my age, yet plays a 16-year-old) as a horribly neglected, abused, yet innately bright youth, Precious. At the film's start, we find she's about to have her second child -- by her own father. Her mother (played by Mo'Nique) routinely throws pans or glass projectiles at Precious's head or generally demeans her to an inhumanely degree (Mama G, take note!) She, Precious, is tremendously overweight, has hallucinations about being a lithe, light-skinned woman, and is just generally one of the most tragic figures of film in (my) recent memory.

Stylistically, I'm not sure if I loved the choppiness, the intermingling of flashbacks with blurred-in fascinations of what-could-be -- but, overall, it was a great tale to tell. I shed some tears into my popcorn, perhaps.

However, given my transient nature of late: Texas, NY, back to Texas, back to NY, new job, etc., I've been shedding tears like never before when I'm accompanied by my screens, silver or small.

When I was sick lately, I watched 34 episodes of Friday Night Lights; there wasn't one where I didn't have to sit up (weakly) and utter: "Grice, do not cry, you big baby. Do not."

I'm going to post my list of ... Lord, 20+ movies that I've seen lately, tomorrow. I'll just do stars-value. These old fingers can't type out all the thoughts!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Jesse Eisenberg (Michael Cera?) Wants to Murder Me! Today's a Good Day ...

I saw eight movies in the theater this past week -- outside of the theater, it's too embarrassing to advertise [17-ish]. So, I'd been working on a bloggle post that would run through the list of films, highlighting the best and worst. (Summer has ended! I can return to the cinema [daily ... or twice, daily -- I slapped my wrist for admitting that] without my head hung in shame for filmmakers).

When what do my wandering eyes behold in my Inbox this morning?

An e-mail from a Crimson alum list group member ...

"Subject: [133-l] Jesse Eisenberg and his vendetta against Morgan Grice"

The body of the e-mail read, which went out to a whole slew of old classmates, friends and acquaintances -- and I'm sure more than a few frenemies:

"I think he's [Eisenberg] referring to this (http://www.thecrimson.com/article.aspx?ref=506154)?
Even if this is a bit of some kind that Woody Harrelson and Jesse Eisenberg do,
it's hilarious.

PST

http://www.avclub.com/articles/woody-harrelson-and-jesse-eisenberg,33580/

AVC: Jesse, you’ve been on a lot of lists of up-and-coming young stars to
watch, that sort of thing. What has your experience been, having recently been
thrust into the limelight?

JE: Well, you’re not supposed to read what they write about you,
because it’s just debilitating. And people have written mean things
that I’ve read, and they make you feel terrible about yourself and feel like:
How could I go be a creative person when people think it’sbad? [:-/]

WH [Woody Harrelson]: Let go of that Harvard Crimson
review.

JE: Fucking Crimson. A few years ago, somebody wrote
something bad inthe Harvard Crimson; then we were in Boston yesterday,
and I thought the girl who was coming to interview us was the girl, and she
never showed up. Smart move. But I have everybody’s name on my bathroom wall, on my stall shower actually, and I just read their names as I soap up
and plan on murdering them.

WH: That’s his way of saying you better write some nice stuff.

So, Jesse Eisenberg thinks about murdering me in the shower?!! ME?!?!? Little, old me.

It was the neatest thing I'd read in some time, though I'm not dumb enough to think it wasn't some PR person feeding his lines. Still.

I should mention that I adored "Zombieland," and that any of the predictions I made in that blasted Crimson article were false. I wish he'd murder me for the quality of the article, rather than the opinion. Because, excuse my candor, "Cursed" sucked.

And who knew Eisenberg was going to be someone people can't differentiate from Michael Cera?!!! Sigh.

More on those other movies from this week later. One hour til my next movie...

I will say that I did love, uncharacteristically, "Bright Star." I don't love romantic movies, and I suuuuure don't love romantic, sad movies about POETS (Keats) ... but I loved this one.